Stolen Kiss
by Maze-zen
Summary: He knew they were waiting for him and still he came. For her.


**Based on art work by the lovely Klaus Scrimshaw: ** post/189612397393/thank-you-adieu-kiss-phantom-of-the-opera

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He'd known that they were waiting for him to show himself, guns ready to fire the moment he appeared, yet he'd come anyway.

She couldn't deny that it warmed her heart.

He knew how big this night was to her, how much she'd striven to become the lead soprano in Paris. Tonight, it was at last announced that La Carlotta had retired, Christine taking her place.

The triumph was as much his as it was hers, but he didn't see it like that anymore. Not after he'd been forced out of her life months ago, by Raoul, but by her as well. It pained her now to think of. He'd taught so much and only asked for her love and devotion in return.

She'd felt him in the ballroom before she, or anyone else, saw him; in that moment she'd known that she couldn't allow him to be hurt.

Excusing herself to go to the powder room, she'd gone down the steps to the small terrace outside the opera. The sun was slowly setting in the west. And he'd come to her as she knew he would.

She'd embraced him, relieved to see her Angel again after so long. It had surprised him; he'd seemed to stop breathing the time her arms were around him and only when she drew back, did he inhale a gulp of air.

No words had been spoken; there had not been a need for them.

Now, he held out his hand to her and his meaning was clear: _Return to your Angel_. And oh, she wanted to! How she wanted it! She'd achieved her dream and even if she abandoned the Opera Populaire, with his help, she could be achieve it again somewhere else.

With him.

His appearance didn't matter; she wasn't sure it ever had. She'd been frightened - yes - when she'd removed his mask, but it was his anger that truly terrified her.

Now, as he stood before her, she only saw the gentle person, she'd come to love when she thought he was an angel.

She began to raise her right hand from where it hung by the side of her modest dress, but she pulled it back when a loud shot rang out.

She'd only heard the noise of a riffel when she'd been a child and seen hunters shoot after deer. It had been one of the first times she'd been confronted with the cruelty of man; her father had sheltered her well.

She suddenly felt overwhelmed as the noise invaded her delicate ears, followed by the call of her fiancé: "Christine, move aside!"

Twisting her body around to look back at him, she saw Raoul standing next to the shooter, riffel still held high, ready to shoot. She turned back to Erik who still - despite the life threatening situation he was in - held out his hand to her, imploring her to come with him.

Another shot rang out.

Erik's breath hitched; the raised hand flew to his shoulder. She gasped as blood began to pour out from a hole in his jacket in spite of his attempt to halt it.

In the distance behind her, Raoul was shouting something, but she didn't grasp his words. Instead, she found herself running to the bleeding man in front of her, desperate to shield from any more attacks.

It wasn't until she was directly in front of him that she noticed the powerful expression he held; he was vivid, the golden in his eyes inflamed - so different from the gentle man he'd been moments before.

His free hand gripped her and pulled her flush against him; her hand lifted to push his arm away, but she didn't. He leaned down, his eyes closing, and his mouth descended on her.

Her breath caught in her throat as he pressed his thin, cold lips against hers. The air around them seemed to crackle and spark, even as he pulled away. She was surprised by the longing she felt to continue the kiss.

"I love you, Christine," he whispered against her lips and briefly leaned his masked forehead against her bare skin. His hold on her tightened for an instant before it ceased completely.

Steps of several men neared them as he reached into his pocket, pressing whatever he found there into her hand. The look in his eyes were meaningful, final.

He hesitantly removed his hand from hers before backing away from her slowly. Then, he turned and ran towards the nearest of the bushes that surrounded the terrace.

A third shot rang through the air; she saw the impact as it hit him in the back.

She screamed, but the sound drowned in a fourth shot that forced him to tumble forward, falling to the ground. With impossible strength he clawed his way onward and disappeared into the bushes.

Gardames ran past her. Raoul came up, gripping her arms and gently shaking her, speaking words she did not hear.

She opened her hand; in her palm lay a thin gold ring.


End file.
